I’m not perfect, and I am a work in progress, but life is good. The realization of my abuse was the first step. Finding and asking for help was also a step towards the right direction.

When she died, I also died. Slowly I awaken, lost. A rebirth would be a way to better describe it. Where do I go from there. Essentially I started over.

Got to bury it, but bury it for good. It has consumed me… my mind, my body, and has tainted my soul.

I for sure am not your typical guy. I also find it very easy to disconnect or stay disconnected when I feel I need to.

Damage has been done and I’m STILL trying to figure it out. When I said before after her death I felt free and lost, I meant it. I do have the love and support that I need, but it’s not easy.

Even to the end, the Stockholm Syndrome existed. But in all honesty, when she passed away, there was a sense of freedom. Freedom, but also feeling extremely lost.

I was only 15, she was 27. She, going through a divorce, me having issues at home. Two people with volatile, emotional situations looking for ways out, rules be damned.

The quiet moments are sometimes the scariest. The calm in between the hectic moments, or mindless ones.

“Do we allow this to ruin us, making our own hell, or do we use it, turn it into fuel that explodes the flames upwards like a phoenix rising from the ashes? Or do we become kings and queens of the ashes?”

Anxiety, depression, OCD, low self esteem, and on, and on, and on. All this to feel free when in reality it made me a prisoner.